d insulting your country--this man who came here a few
years ago without a cent and now has made a fortune in Canada, and I
have no doubt is now conspiring with Canada's enemies, and would
betray us into the hands of those enemies if he could. For this man I
have the hatred which one feels for an enemy, but for you Canadians
who have sat here and swallowed his insults, I have nothing but
contempt. This man belongs to the race of people who cut hands off
children, and outrage women; and now, when our Empire calls for men to
go out and stop these devilish things, you sit here and let this
traitor insult your country. You are all braver than I am, too; I am
only a joke to most of you, a freak, a looney,--you have said so,--but
I won't stand for this."

That night recruiting began in the valley and Stanley was the first
man to sign on. The recruiting agent felt that it was impossible to
turn down a man who had shown so much fighting spirit; and, besides,
he was a small man and he had a face which he prized highly!

When the boys of the valley went to Valcartier there was none among
them who had more boxes of home-made candy or more pairs of socks than
Stanley; nor was any woman prouder of her boy than Mrs. Corbett was
of the lad she had taken into her home and into her heart ten years
before.

They were sent overseas almost at once, and, after a short training in
England, went at once to the firing-line.

* * * * *

It was a dull, foggy morning, and although it was quite late the
street-lamps were still burning, and while they could not make much
impression on the darkness, at least they made a luminous top on the
lamp-posts and served as a guide to the travelers who made their way
into the city. In the breakfast-room of Mayflower Lodge it was dark,
and gloomier still, for "the master" was always in his worst mood in
the morning, and on this particular morning his temper was aggravated
by the presence of his wife's mother and two sisters from Leith, who
always made him envious of the men who marry orphans, who are also the
last of their race.

Mr. Goodman was discussing the war-situation, and abusing the
Government in that peculiarly bitter way of the British patriot.

His wife, a faded, subdued little woman, sat opposite him and
contributed to the conversation twittering little broken phrases of
assent. Her life had been made up of scenes like this. She was of the
sweet and pliable t